The Talk
by VaultBunny
Summary: "If humans make synths then who makes humans like you and me?" On the list of things Hancock planned to do today, telling his lover's son all about the birds and the brahmin was not on it. [Inspired by the same hilarious line that Shaun asked my SS one fateful night.]


Hancock had never thought about having children. After his ghoulification he chalked it up as an impossibility not worth dwelling on. It was for the best at any rate—Hancock was many things but father-material was not one of them. So, even though he promised his gun and aid on the fool's errand that was the rescue of Shaun Darcey, he never for one moment imagined that he'd have to take on the mantle of "father."

Maybe something more along the lines of "irradiated-yet-oddly-charming-uncle."

An uncle that just so happened to fuck the kid's mother six ways from Sunday at every given opportunity.

Quinn, herself, never breached the subject. After watching her husband die in an effort to protect their baby, who could easily and openly offer the position to someone else? Hancock wasn't even sure if he'd feel right taking ol' Nate's place as a proud papa. Shaun wouldn't know any different but Hancock knew all too well the far-off look that glazed over Quinn's storm-grey eyes when she remembered the life she had before.

But here they sat on an old weathered sofa inside the remains of Quinn's pre-war home. A mixed-and-matched little family gathered in Sanctuary, listening to the rain pound on the sheet metal he and Quinn used to repair the roof as young Shaun tinkered with an old typewriter Quinn had smuggled back from their last excursion.

Quinn rested her head against Hancock's shoulder, watching her son work and poke his tongue out in concentration. She wondered how such a perfect copy could be made. The physical attributes, she could understand. Shaun had her deep red hair and the same eyes and pretty nose...but the way his tongue poked out and he twitched his nose while he worked was so Nate that it made her chest ache. How could he take on the mannerisms of a man he'd never known? Did the real Shaun—

Quinn shoved the thought away in an instant. From the moment she heard the boy call her "mom" with his terrified and desperate eyes pleading for her protection, she took his hand and he became her son. This was the real Shaun. She and Hancock agreed that no one was to know what he really was. He deserved the chance to have a normal childhood...whatever that meant nowadays. Quinn had lost her son twice now—she couldn't bear to lose him a third time to the ignorance and fear of the common folk.

"You're pretty handy, ain't you, kiddo?" Hancock asked, bringing Quinn back to the present.

Shaun blinked and looked up at them. His eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile. He puffed out his chest as he continued to fiddle with the casing.

"I'm going to make something amazing!" He declared. "It'll make things a lot easier around here."

"I'll bet. You work hard. They sure don't make 'em like you anymore, kid."

Quinn's eyes cut to Hancock, the disapproval plain on her face. Hancock frowned then realized exactly what he had said. He winced and gave Quinn an apologetic squeeze to her shoulder but Shaun seemed oblivious to the exchange as his eyes suddenly lit up and he exclaimed:

"Oh yeah! I wanted to ask you something, if humans make synths then who makes humans like you and me?"

Quinn's eyes grew wide. She opened and closed her mouth as Hancock snorted and snickered next to her. She frowned at him, then gave a sweet smile to her son—who was waiting with his hands folded in his lap and staring up at her with those large, innocent eyes.

"Hancock will tell you _all_ about that," Quinn said, smirking as the ghoul's laughter cut off with a sharp choke. His dark eyes stared at her, incredulous and helpless as the boy turned his attention on him.

On the list of things he planned to do today, telling his lover's son all about the birds and the brahmin was not on it.

"Can't, uh...can't we just get the kid some magazines and leave it at that?" Hancock asked. Shaun tilted his head, his brows furrowing in a way so that his face mirrored Quinn's. Hancock could have laughed at the similarities. He'd come to learn that once the boy had a question, he was just as stubborn as his mother when it came to getting the answer.

Resigned, Hancock tried to find words delicate enough to explain the act of sex without ensuring that he wouldn't be getting any for the foreseeable future.

"Alright, uh...well," he began. Shaun sat in rapt attention, his typewriter forgotten on the floor. "When a guy meets a girl...or another guy...or if you're lucky enough to see a girl and girl start to—Ow!" Hancock rubbed his side where Quinn had pinched beneath his ribs.

"When two people hit it off," he recovered, "they like to show they like each other in different ways."

"Like kissing?" Shaun asked.

"Yeah, kid. Like kissing. And sometimes more than kissing," Hancock let his fingers brush beneath Quinn's ear as he spoke. "It starts with kissing and moves on to touching. And if he's really lucky, she'll be drunk enough to take her clothes off." Quinn elbowed him and Hancock covered his laugh with a cough.

"Once they're both naked they'll get into bed or whatever flat surface is nearby. And after some more kissing and touching, the guy will...well, he'll take his…"

This was harder than he thought. He looked to Quinn, but she seemed content to just watch him squirm.

God help him, he was in love with a bitch. But he was in love. He could tell the kid the biology behind it, the "science" of it, and part of him knew that it would be easy for Shaun to understand it that way.

But how was he supposed to explain the thrill of hearing Quinn's breathless laugh as he kissed the soft, satin-smooth skin behind her knee? The way his body craved the feeling of her blunt nails scraping his back as gentle words whispered from her pink lips into the remnants of his ears?

Sex was more than just shoving tab A into slot B. It was how time slowed in a way that Jet could never replicate; the stillness in his mind as two bodies melted into one. It was tasting his name on her tongue and getting high off the nips of her teeth; It was the glow of her skin in the morning light streaming through the holes in the ceiling, and that lazy, sated smile as her palm stroked his withered cheek until he pressed a kiss to the tender flesh of her wrist.

Hancock realized he had been silent for a while and Shaun's look of curiosity had morphed into one of concern. Quinn was also looking at him, visibly amused at his rare speechless state, but one of her eyebrows was cocked.

He decided to bite the bullet. Shaun could understand the basic mechanics, so Hancock focused on that. The emotions—the soul of the act—would only come with time and experience. Assuming the kid ever grew up to have them.

After Hancock's brief and vanilla description, Shaun sat quiet for a few moments longer. His nose scrunched up as he filed away all the information he'd been given.

"So," Shaun began slowly, "people have sex and that creates a baby."

"Sometimes, yeah. But not all the time," Hancock added.

"How do you know if you'll get a baby after?" Shaun asked.

"You don't. Not right away. But people have sex for more reasons than just having kids."

"But if you want kids, usually you just keep trying until it happens," Quinn said and Hancock slumped in his seat, relieved that his solo lesson was over.

Shaun nodded.

"Do you have sex?" He inquired, pure scientific speculation in his eyes. Hancock couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh yeah," he said with a ghoulish grin.

"A lot?" Shaun continued.

"Uh...a fair amount," Quinn conceded.

"We could always do it more, Love."

"Hush."

The wheels in Shaun's head were turning at full speed now.

"Then...are you trying to have more kids?"

Quinn's face fell for a moment. Hancock saw the darkness creep into her eyes and knew she was in that far-off place of 210 years ago. Maybe back then she had wanted a hundred kids. Now it was a gamble just to have one. People never knew if they were going to lose them to illness, raiders, or animals. Even in Diamond City, there were things that a parent just couldn't control.

Then there was his sterility. She would never have that large family that she deserved. Not in the Commonwealth and not with him. Hancock wondered for the first time if their relationship would be strong enough to make up for that.

But then Quinn smiled.

"No," she said.

Hancock ran his ruined fingers through her hair. His heart still thundered from anxiety and he craved a hit to help it slow, but her admission rested in his eardrums and Hancock swore "no" was the most beautiful word in the English language.

"We've got you, kid," he added, "it ain't gonna get better than that."

Shaun's smile could have lit up Diamond City. He pushed himself off the rug and climbed up onto the couch to nestle himself between them. Quinn wrapped the boy in her arms and pressed a kiss to his hair.

"I love you mom...dad."

Hancock stiffened. The word hung in the air like the stale cigarette smoke inside The Third Rail. He wondered if he had heard the boy correctly, then Quinn glanced his way and he knew he had to say something.

As though he might scare the boy away, Hancock rested his hand on Shaun's head, his fingers ruffling the rusty hair.

"We...love you too, Shaun," he said, and he was shocked to realize he meant every word.

The next morning, Hancock sighed and rolled over in bed, a smile cracking his lips at the sight of Quinn's tousled hair and slightly open mouth as she slept. He heard rummaging from down the hall and knew Shaun was back working on his latest invention, which meant he'd be occupied for hours.

Hancock slipped his bare arms around Quinn's waist, pulled her against his chest, and peppered her face with light kisses until her brows scrunched together and she grumbled. Her eyes slowly opened, unfocused at first but her bleary vision would clear soon enough. Hancock took that time to kiss along her jawline, dipped down to her neck, and nibbled at her throat so she would arch into him and sigh with delight as his hands slipped down to squeeze her firm ass.

"Good morning to you, too," she purred, her arms snaked around his neck and she hiked her leg up to hook her knee around his hips.

"It is, isn't it?" Hancock shifted his weight so he rested between her legs and bent over her. Quinn's legs wrapped around him, happy to bring him ever closer.

"You'll have to cut me some slack. A ghoul like me can't have all this smooth skin laid out for him without getting a bit...hungry."

Quinn giggled, the sound still rough from sleep.

"What ever will I do?" She teased, one hand slipped between them to stroke his shaft fully to life. Hancock growled and claimed her mouth in a heated kiss as his lifted her hips.

"That's a start," he rasped. His fingers danced over her sex, and feeling the wetness there shot heat straight to his groin. He wondered briefly what she had been dreaming about, but decided to give her a hard, long, ready dose of reality.

Three firm knocks echoed through the house and Hancock growled. He heard Shaun's tinkering stop and the sound of his bare feet padding toward the front door.

"Good morning, Mr. Garvey," Shaun said.

"Fuck _me_ ," Hancock groaned and scowled. Quinn sighed beneath him, her hand reluctantly sliding off of his manhood. They remained in bed, listening, knowing that if it were an emergency their recreational activities would have to wait.

"Good morning, Shaun. Is your mom here?" Preston asked.

"Yeah, they're still in their room."

"At this hour?" Preston sounded surprised.

"Yeah, they were up late last night. I could hear them from my room...I think they were having sex."

Hancock's eyes widened and Quinn couldn't contain a shocked laugh before dissolving into giggles.

"Say, Mr. Garvey! Did you know that's where babies come from?" Shaun sounded so excited that he could share this knowledge with an adult.

Hancock tried to imagine the look on the Minuteman's face and couldn't help but smirk. Quinn had covered her mouth but a few snorts still escaped from behind her palm. She was no doubt imagining the same.

"I-I see. That's...that's good to know," Preston cleared his threat. "When they're up—"

"Way ahead of you, Garvey," Hancock snarked. Quinn shushed him but continued to giggle.

"—can you ask your mom to meet me at the watchtower?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Garvey!"

Hancock stopped paying attention to the voices in the living room and returned his focus to the mirthful smoothskin beneath him.

"I blame you," he said.

"Show me what you're gonna do about it," Quinn challenged with a smile.

Hancock was only too happy to oblige.


End file.
